


Intemperance (the assuredly dangerous remix)

by Red



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M, Photographs, Remix, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red/pseuds/Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the moment, Erik can think of nothing more ill-advised. Yet here they are, bared before the camera's eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intemperance (the assuredly dangerous remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kernezelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kernezelda/gifts).
  * Inspired by [3 sentence meme response](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/141947) by Kernezelda. 
  * In response to a prompt by [Kernezelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kernezelda/pseuds/Kernezelda) in the [xmen_remix_madness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2015) collection. 



> A remix of Kernezelda's 3-sentence meme fic. Inspirational (and nsfw) photo [here](http://victoriangentlemeninlove.tumblr.com/day/2013/08/17). Thank you Kernezelda!

But for his gift and for the frightening enormity of Charles’, Erik would not have dared such intemperance.

Springtime, his mind foolishness and the consuming fire of what he would take decades to call love, and over those decades and beyond he would always, forever remember this: 

The chafe of fabric against flesh dressed left, the preternatural angelicness of Charles’s face upturned, the dust-smoke claustrophobia of the studio; the bounding of his heart, the heady threat of ruining rented clothes, how Charles drove his body to such ends; the absent space where their photographer once stood, the gleaming of the camera under in the shroud of his powers, the way Charles’ lips quirked as Erik sighed for relief, releasing his prick. 

Charles had undone his ties as well, cock vivid amidst pristine cloth. Let aside everything else, let aside approaching a photographer of such reputation and coming even so far, allowing himself to take his cock in hand and allowing Charles to indulge his favored vice. 

All that aside, Erik would not have gone so far as immortalizing this. 

The repercussions were unthinkable. 

That would be little matter to Erik alone. Charles, also, could do far worse than to find himself a man untethered by society, the unworkable knot of family ties cleaved irrevocably. 

The cause, however. For the cause, Erik would hold back on a great many things. He would eventually give up a great many, in his decades: comfort, his station, Charles himself. This moment in time, Erik would rue later, was so, so very much less than what would later be sacrificed.

And yet, with his youth, with the thrum of passion and a sort of springtime madness boiling in his core; and yet, even knowing no camera could ever capture any of it: not the startling hue of Charles’ eyes, nor the beautiful flush of his sinful lips, nor that contrast of blood-engorged flesh emerging from white cloth...

And yet, that day in the studio, Erik reached out. He thrust his powers into the lonely body of the waiting camera, and yes, he did it all the same. 

*

_In the years after, he often would consider destroying the image. The cause, he would remind himself. To think of the ruin it would bring to their people, to think of it adding more burden on that which already weighs them down, Erik would be a fool to not tear it, to let it fall forgotten into a winter’s fire._

_Yet every time, he’d look back upon it, the jolting grey-scale immortalization of that day, and he’d remember it all: the hunger in Charles’ eyes, the heat of his mouth, the smell of sweat and the creak of the chair’s legs as he fucked that deceptively sweet face. He’d recall every last moment, and so it would be every time that he would be frozen, his resolve shattered. And he would bury it once again between the pages of a book, and will himself, once again, to forget._


End file.
